


And With This Knife, I'll Keep You Sweet

by Lirry_loves_Ziall



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Porn, Assassin Fic, Can't think of any other tags, Explicit Sexual Content, Feelings, I almost wish this had been an ot5, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, kind of but not really, larry - Freeform, lilo, zarry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-01-21 05:46:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1539884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lirry_loves_Ziall/pseuds/Lirry_loves_Ziall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I killed him,” Zayn reminds.<br/>“You think I don’t know that?” Harry growls, surprised by the malice in his tone.  “You’re sick.”<br/>Zayn can feel the metal against his back, right on a vertebrate of his spine.  It’s surprisingly cold considering it’s been inside the back of Harry’s trousers all night.<br/>“I am.  You should put me down.”<br/>“We’re both sick.”<br/>“Not on the same level.”  He knows Harry’s finger is on the trigger, pretty sure it’s shaking, uncertain.<br/>“I watched Louis die, Zayn.  That makes me pretty sick.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bingo.

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo. I don't really know how this came about, not entire sure it makes a whole ton of sense but HEY. That's the beauty of writing really.
> 
> Anyway, thanks so much for reading, and sorry about all the confusion, I promise it makes sense in the end.
> 
> Love all you readers oh so very much  
> .xx

Its dark out, the sun had gone down over the horizon hours ago but Louis’ still up.  He couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning for all of his three hour lie down before his alarm went off.  He’s been waiting far too long for this call and there was no way he was going to miss it.  He’d given his sleeping partner a quick kiss on the cheek before slipping quietly down to his computer, just in time too.  The call had come only seconds later.

“I don’t think this is gunna work,” Louis says.  He’s sitting in the kitchen at a round hand-crafted wooden table made just big enough for two.  There’s a pile of folders stacked a mile high behind the computer, the top folder peeking out over the screen.  It’s ominous, reminds him of everything he could lose if their plan doesn’t work.

“I promise Louis, it will.  You have to believe me.”  There’s a wonderful voice coming through the speakers, one he doesn’t get to hear too often.  It’s coming from somewhere far far away, a place even Louis doesn’t know the name of. 

“I do believe you.  I just…I don’t know how much of it _he’s_ going to believe,” he replies honestly. 

“He doesn’t have to.   Look Louis, he only has to believe one thing, the end.  That’s the only reason were all doing this.”

“It’s dangerous.”  He’s stating the obvious but he needs some more reassurance.  Something which will make this plan 100% worth it.  Too many things could wrong for Louis’ liking, there are too many scenarios where they could get caught.  Or worse.

“It is.  Is that a problem?”  _Sarcasm.  “_ We all want out, okay? This is going to be the only way.  I mean, that _is_ still what you want right, to get out?”

“Yes of course-”

“Then, that’s it.  That’s the end game.  Clear our names.  Get our lives back.” 

Louis sighs.  _He’s right._ The blurry, gorgeous man on the other end of the video chat is right, and Louis hates it. He hates that, even miles away, the man is always right. 

“Fine.  Get our lives back.  Then I’ll be able to see you again right?” He sounds pathetic, the words coming out soft and slightly desperate. 

“Every day Lou, three more weeks and we can see each other every single fucking day.” 

“Okay…okay, yeah, I’d like that,” Louis confirms, hiding a smile.  Whether it’s to the idea of spending every day with the love of his life or the plan to get there, he’s not sure.  Probably both.

“So you’ll talk to Harry then?”

Louis looks up over the screen to the banister, hoping Harry’s not standing at the top waiting for him to come back to bed.  “Yeah,” he says.  “He’ll probably want it just as much as me.  What parts am I leaving out?”

“Whatever you think he doesn’t need to know.  Whatever convinces him of the reality.  Harry’s the only one we need to worry about, he reacts too emotionally.  The less he knows, the better.  Can you do that?”

Louis pauses, takes in the expression of the grainy man before him.  He’s clearly not shaved in weeks, the scruff coming up from under his chin nears the tips of cheekbones.  There are dark circles under his eyes indicating he hasn’t slept well in ages, something Louis can understand.  His deep brown eyes look scared and concerned, but beneath that they look relieved.  It obvious he’s wanted to do this for a while, been planning this for far too long for Louis to say no, they all have.

It’s just, Louis misses him.  Louis misses him so much it’s actually starting to hurt.  His heart feels like something’s been sitting on it, feels like it’s been trapped inside a too small cage and now it’s threatening to break out.  He can feel it swelling and hammering wildly against his rib cage the longer he spends on this call.  Louis knows that if they stay connected much longer this could get complicated, but there’s a powerful part of him that doesn’t want to end the call just yet.     

“Yeah, I can do that.  Definitely,” Louis agrees, dragging his fingers aimlessly over the scruff on the screen.

“Are you trying to touch me?” The man asks, his voice teasing now.

“Maybe,” Louis smirks.

“God.  I wish I could touch you Louis.  It’s been far too long,” he says, brown eyes meeting blue.  They’re darker now, covered in a thin layer of lust Louis hasn’t seen in a long time.

“That it is has.  I love you Liam Payne, I can’t wait till this this over,” Louis says, stroking his finger along the lad’s jaw line one last time.

“Me neither baby, three more weeks yeah?” There’s a soft crack of a door behind him and someone steps into the room.  Liam looks back and gives the tattoo’d stranger a swift nod.  “He’s in,” he says, back to the camera.  “So is Harry.”  There’s another nod in return, a soft _‘sounds good’_ before the man walks back out.  “I’ve gotta go now love,” Liam says softly.

“I know.”

“I hate leaving you like this, you know.  I mean leaving you that first time was just – but this, this is always hard.”

“Yeah, me too.”  Louis heart swoops at the words and he has to force himself to hold back before Liam sees his internal break.  

“I’ll see you soon darling. I love you.”

“I know that too,” Louis says, smiling.  He watches as the screen turns black, an ‘end call’ appearing in replace of the handsome figure. 

 _Three week_ s, Louis thinks.  In three weeks everything will be exactly the way they want it to be.                  

\--

 _It’s like that scene in the Matrix,_ Harry thinks, only instead of in a cave he’s in a barn in the middle of nowhere.

It’s a familiar place, but he’s still nervous, palms sweaty as he rubs them against his thighs.  He’s been here before, for a party no less than exactly the same as this one.  There’s no need for ID, money or even a wallet.  It’s a cold night, he can see his breath every time he lets out a concentrated exhale, but he still refused to wear a jacket.  No one else does, there’s no place to put it and once you’re inside its too hot to care.  He pulls heavily on the doors of the barn, instantly hit with thick, smokey air.

There are easily two hundred people inside, far more than any fire regulation say is safe.  With one look, Harry can tell the vast majority of them are high on some kind of drug.  It’s usually the only reason to go to one of these parties.  Everyone is dancing, their bodies pressed against anything they can find.  There are girls and boys alike without shirts on, used more to wipe the sweat from their bodies than anything else. 

It takes him a moment to adjust to the air; he’s only been here once so his body isn’t accustomed to the thickness of the atmosphere.  The music is pounding; the bass making his entire body vibrate with it.  He can feel the beat start in shoes and travel right into his chest, into his lungs.

He’s looking for someone in particular, knows for a fact he won’t be able to find them by just standing at the front door.  He’s going to have to go _in._   He’ll need to lose himself amongst the crowd of sweat soaked, barely clothed bodies.  He closes his eyes and lets the atmosphere surround him, invade his senses and take over his mind.  He can feel himself walking forward, greens eyes half lidded as he makes his way through the crowd.   

It doesn’t take long for the sensations to overtake him, the beat of the music, the heat from the crowd.  He’s actually trying to forget for a little bit.  Trying desperately to not remember the last few weeks, it’s been too hard for him.  He’s lost just about everything he cares about and this is the only place he can try and forget.  But for the first time during the night, his mind betrays him. 

\--

_It’s late and he’s had a long hard day at work.  His business hadn’t gone as smoothly as he’d originally intended, took a lot more out of him than he’d wanted to give.  He’d come through the door with a heavy weight on his shoulders, pushing it open with his foot.  His mouth is holding onto the bag of Chinese food as his arms are occupied with the stack of folders he’d have to spend the next few days analyzing._

_‘Clients’, his boss had said, ‘these are your new clients, take care of them for me will ya?’. Harry didn’t miss the smirk of violent secrecy behind it._

_“Louis?” Harry calls, dropping his keys on the small table in the hallway.  “Picked up dinner, love,” he grumbles, turning left towards the small living room just past the front hall.  It takes his mind a moment to understand what his eyes are seeing.  He lets out a short, sharp gasp releasing everything in his hands and letting them glide to the floor._

\--

His eyes are shut tight as he forces the memory away, swaying gently to the music.  If anyone needed a place to lose themselves, this was it.  He could feel the sticky bodies of people around him bump into his arm, his back.  It occurs to him that they could probably feel the metal tucked into the back of his jeans, underneath the belt, but it didn’t matter.  If anyone did feel it, they didn’t say anything, didn’t care. 

He opens his eyes when his hands find the curved hip of someone’s body.  It’s definitely not a girl’s, but it’s fuller than most men he knows.  Reminds him too much of _someone else_ , especially when his eyes fall on the strangers tuff of light brown hair.  It’s unfair, this moment, taking emotional advantage of someone who has no idea he’s doing it, but it soothes him.  He pulls the body right up against his, pressing his hips hard against the others. 

It’s not the same, but it helps, relieves tension.  He moves his own hips with the beat of music, jutting smoothly from side to side with the rhythm.  He can feel the male’s strong back against his chest, the sweat pouring through his t-shirt onto Harry’s.  He’s just as sweaty now too, can feel the shirt clinging to his shoulder blades.  His head is filling with smoke now, thick and clouded, completely loosing himself to the easy, dragging atmosphere.

\--

_Slow.  Everything around him is happening in slow motion.  He screams Louis’ name so loud he can feel it ripping his lungs, but in his head its silent, can’t hear himself shouting.  There’s blood, lots of it right next to Louis’ body where he’s lying on the carpet, face tilted towards Harry.  He launches forward, his entire body springing into action as he pulls Louis tight to his chest.  Tears pricking the corner of his eyes._

_He’s seen blood before, loads of it, way more than is currently soaking into his carpet.  Yet this is different. This isn’t just some stranger’s blood.  This is **his** blood, the blood of someone he knows.  Someone he cares far too much about, ‘and now look where it’s got you’.  Harry promptly ignores the voice in his head and reaches into his pocket for his phone.  “Louis? Baby, look at me okay?” he begs, voice betraying his aura of calm.  “I’m right here darling, you’re going to be okay.”_

\--

Harry can feel the body turn around, face instantly nuzzling into his neck, small hands running over his shoulder blades.  It’s good, slow and tantalizing, keeping his mind from wandering yet again.  He needs this, needs to get away from the last few weeks.  He’s here for only one reason, one case, but it’s the hardest case he’s ever had to deal with. 

There’s history with this case, and not just from the last few weeks.  It’s a dangerous job, with how much history they have, but it doesn’t matter.  It still has to get done, and this is perfect place to pull it off; the same place they met.

A pair of lips touch the base of Harry’s neck, pulling him sharply back to the moment.  It’s unwelcomed, and he’s not ready for it, not even close.  He digs his fingers into the lad’s hips again, using his palms to push the shorter boy away. 

\--

_He’s not okay, and Harry knows that.  Louis’ eyes are so distant and he looks almost content.  He is not going to be okay._

_Louis reaches up and ever so gently touches Harry’s cheek, fingers grazing perfectly over the scar he’d gotten a few days after meeting Louis. “No Louis, not like this baby, you’re not the one who goes like this,” he says, phone cradled against his ear with his shoulder.  He strokes Louis’ face, nails digging into the lad’s side as Harry clutches him closer._

_“S’okay Harry,” Louis manages quietly, sputtering blood past his paling lips._

_“It’s not Louis.  You’re going to be okay, you have to be, this isn’t for you,” he rambles, watching Louis’ hand drop onto his own chest.  “Fucking hell Louis,” he cries weakly, pressing his forehead against Louis’, brushing their noses together as if it would bring him back._

_That’s when he notices it, when his hands slip into Louis’s still soft chestnut hair, something missing._

_“I promise Louis,” he growls, pressing a kiss to Louis’ forehead.  “I promise I’ll get him, I’ll take care of him okay? I’ll take real good care of him,” he finishes, the evil behind the words slipping out into his speech.  He runs his fingertips over the empty patch of skin on the top of Louis’ head.  He knows exactly who is responsible for this, and there’s not a single bone in his body that isn’t harbouring for revenge._  

\--

 _That’s final then,_ Harry thinks, his mind has betrayed him for the last time. 

He’s here for one fucking reason and he needs to find it.  He pushes the boy away completely, ignoring the almost silent shout of rejection.  Doesn’t even bother with a second glance as he turns to walk through the rest of the crowd.  He can tell his body is moving of its own accord, retracing the only path it’s committed to memory.  When he reaches the edge of the crowd he stops, his eyes falling on one lad in particular. 

The one he’s here for.  Harry almost cracks a smile. 

He looks exactly like he did all those years ago: long, dark and mysterious.  Still got jet black hair, just styled a bit different with the sides shaved, and he’s gotten more tattoos since Harry saw him last.  _Still got that nasty habit_ , he notes, a cigarette held easily between two slender fingers.  His black jeans are ripped at the knee, sporting a pair of dark brown worker boots and he’s wearing a white shirt with irony written all over it.

_Cool Kids Don’t Dance._

As Harry watches, the lad pulls himself up off the wall he was leaning against, and heads straight for the crowd, a little to the left of where Harry’s standing.  He follows the lad with his eyes, shifting his body so he can keep a close on him.  _That_ is what he came here for, and there’s no way he’s going to let it get away from him. 

Harry’s spent a long time looking for this guy, dipped into way to many past cases to give up that easily.  He’s tried to learn everything he possibly can so he doesn’t fuck this up.  It took him a few weeks to get a plan together, endured a few more breakdowns than he cared to admit but it’s worth it.  He’s never cared so much or focused so intently on one person, going so far as to stalk him on several occasions.  _Guess that’s what happens,_ Harry thinks, _when you fuck with family._  

\--

 Zayn’s seen him, is the thing.  It’s not necessarily bad, but if Zayn ever wanted to leave, Harry wouldn’t be able to stop him.  It’s too crowded to get to him quickly enough and going outside isn’t an option.  Outside is barren, there isn’t enough bodies or noise to cover up what he’s about to do.  Someone will notice and he can’t have that.  He’s never messed up before, doesn’t plan on it tonight either. 

Though he is curious why Zayn didn’t leave the second he noticed Harry standing there, staring at him with intensity.  Zayn _has_ to know what brought him here, there’s no other reason.  They spend half their time avoiding each other like the plague, why wouldn’t Zayn run when he knows for a fact this isn’t going to end well. 

Harry slowly makes his way over to Zayn, standing almost perfectly still save for the small sway of his hips.  Harry almost falters, _Zayn is waiting for him._ He hadn’t planned on that.  He expected a bit of a scuffle, a fight so soft people would think they’re fighting for dominance instead of life.

He’s quick, snaking his arm around Zayn’s chest, his hand coming to rest on his opposite shoulder.  Pulling tight, he fits the lad’s Adams apple snug into the curve of his elbow.  He dips his head down letting his chin hit the tops of Zayn’s shoulders, lips brushing against the length of his neck.  They trail up, feather light as they close around the shell of Zayn’s ear, tongue darting out for fun.  Harry presses his hips forward, his crotch lining up with cleft of Zayn’s ass.  He pushes back teasingly, rolling his hips with devilish smirk. 

“We were lovers once,” Zayn says, quiet and dark, like it’s supposed to make a difference.

Despite himself, Harry’s mind wanders.  _Once_.  A time so far back it almost seems faded; everything about the memory is soft. 

\--

_It’s one night back when Harry was young and feeling a bit risky._

_He had come here to this very barn, gotten himself lost in the newness of it all.  The fog, the people, everything was new and far too wonderful.  It’s hard to see through the thick smoke, but he manages to pull out one single figure.   He’s tanned and leaning up against the far wall like he’s too cool for everyone here._

_Harry has spent the better part of the evening watching him, studying his tattoos, eyeing the cigarette between his lips as it got smaller and smaller.   He’s tempted; the boy looks so delicious Harry can’t keep himself away.  His body won’t listen to him, slowly walking towards the wall, making sure those mysterious brown eyes never leave his own.  It’s only when he’s inches from the other boy does he realize what his body has done._

_No words are spoken as Zayn follows Harry back to the dance floor, back among the sweaty bodies and fake fog.  Zayn plasters himself to Harry’s front instantly, their bodies meshing together easily.  His dark tattooed arms curl safely around Harry’s shoulders, long fingers tugging at the curls on the base of the lad’s neck.  Zayn’s eyes are impossible to look away from, dark chocolate with gold specs scattered around each iris.  Harry finds himself staring, barely recognizing how much closer Zayn is moving.  When Zayn’s lips finally touch his own it’s like a fire has erupted in his chest, bringing his entire body to life._

_Harry kisses back with such force Zayn has to tighten his grip on the lad’s curls, pulling as Harry pushes his head back.  He tries to keep their hips together, grinding lightly as his tongue invades Zayn’s mouth.  He tastes wonderful, like a proper English mint, spicy and addictive.  Harry can’t get enough.  His body is practically begging for more, already hard and pressing eagerly against Zayn’s thigh.  All it takes is one desperate look and they’re racing out of the barn like their lives depend on it._

_There’s nothing physical about what happens in the taxi, just a constant exchange of cheeky winks, and longing looks.  Eyes that drag from just below the belt line up to a pair of wet and swollen lips.  Harry’s heart is threatening to beat right out of his chest, hammering wilding against its boney cage.  He’s 99% sure his pupils are dilated, black circles leaving behind the smallest ring of green – Zayn’s eyes have lost all their brown.  In the cab they’re as black as the night itself._

_They fuck hard, the back board of Zayn’s bed pounding so strongly against the wall Harry thinks it might bust through.  Give the neighbours something to look at.  Neither lad really has time to feel what was happening.  Harry’s too focused on chasing his staggeringly close climax, and Zayn’s too focused on how good it feels to finally have someone inside of him._

_Harry comes first, spilling completely into the condom, sharp, rough thrusts as he rides it out.  He keeps bucking forward until Zayn finishes, sprits of white standing out against his tanned chest.  They’re heaving and panting, Zayn’s fingernails still dug deep into the soft flesh of Harry’s arse.  He’s pretty sure those will leave behind some scars._

_“Fucking hell,” Zayn says, the first words the boys exchanged to each other all night.  Harry instantly loves Zayn’s accent, how rough and poor it sounds.  Like he comes from a lower class, poverty.  It shouldn’t make him want to hear it again, should make him feel sorry for the lad, but it doesn’t.  He just wants to hear his name fall from Zayn’s lips._

_“Yeah,” Harry replies, his voice surprisingly cracked.  He pulls out slowly, two fingers gripping the edge of the condom as he settles back on his heels.  He tosses it in the trash next to the bed, and flops down on his back next to Zayn._

_“Smoke?” He asks casually, reaching over to his bed side table and pulling one from the pack._

_“Nah, not a smoker,” Harry says, watching as Zayn lights the cigarette and sucks with practised ease.  They lie in silence for a few minutes, chests rising and falling slower and slower until they’ve both calmed down and Zayn’s cigarette is long gone._

_“Zayn.”  He breaks the silence first._

_“You shouldn’t be here Harry,” Zayn says simply, but like he doesn’t actually want Harry to leave._

_“Oh? Then why am I?”_

_“You tell me.”_

_Harry flips onto his side and faces Zayn’s profile.  He got his right arm tucked behind his head, tattoo’s on full display, the other lying across his stomach.  Harry scans down his body, taking in the vast array of scars on his chest and abs, something he hadn’t noticed before.  Even more so, he’s starting to notice the worst scars underneath the dark ink on his arm._

_“I’m dangerous, I could hurt you,” Harry tries._

_Zayn hums in response.  “No more than I already am.”_

_There’s a beat Harry knows Zayn’s leaving for him to fill, but with what? He doesn’t know a single thing about Zayn, but apparently he knows more about Harry than he’s letting on._

_“I could kill you.”_

_“Bingo.”_

 


	2. More Than You Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took ages. 
> 
> I had something written but I absolutely hated it, so. Now I have this, which is 100 times better so thanks for being so patient haha
> 
> .xx

_This must be what he was worried about,_ Liam thinks.  He’s sitting in the most uncomfortable excuse for a chair he’s ever encountered, and once he had to sit on a plastic crake for almost six hours. 

There’s a bed directly in front of him, the blue sheets creaseless and clean, tucked up underneath the small body occupying it.  Most of his attention is focused on the several machines hooked up to the sleeping boy.  He’s sure one of those is for a heart rate but he can’t tell which lines and beeps go with it, and it’s starting to drive him a bit mad.  

Liam rubs his hands roughly against his face, digging his knuckles into his eyes.  He’s absolutely exhausted.  He’s been awake for almost seventy-two hours straight, and in desperate need of some coffee.  It takes a lot out of him to leave the room though, feels terrible for leaving Louis behind after what he’s put the lad through.  He stays for another five minutes before he even debates pushing himself out of the chair.   

It’s been a long few days.  He hasn’t heard anything from the other lads and the doctors still have no news on Louis’ condition, good or bad.  It’s all starting to get to him.  He’s fed up with hearing the words, _‘there’s still no change, just, give him some time’_.  He’d give Louis all the time in the world if he could, but unfortunately Louis needs to get better.  Sooner rather than later.

Liam slowly stands up, arms stretching high above his head.  He can feel every stiff muscle in his body tug with the stretch.  Just as he’s about to reach for the door handle, it swings open suddenly, nearly smacking him right in the face. 

He’s not sure what he’s more surprised by: the fact that he’s still got the instinct to reach for his gun, despite having been without one for weeks.  Or that the unexpected visitor is already lowering his.

“Niall,” Liam says, half accusatory.

“Should’ve figured you’d still be here.” 

Liam gives him a once over, watches as he tucks the gun back into the belt of his jeans.  Liam smirks, no matter how long Niall’s been out of the field he’s just as quick as he always was – faster than any of them.

Liam’s known Niall for ages, long before he’d met Louis or even got into this business.  They’d been childhood friends, nearly inseparable.  Niall had spent more nights at Liam’s house than his own.  Most people figured they were dating, with how they did almost everything together.

But then Niall’s dad died, unexpectedly and apparently violently.  Liam had only met the lad less than a handful of times but he still accompanied Niall to the funeral.  He had no idea it would be the last time he’d see Niall for the next four years.      

“How’s he doing?” Niall asks quietly, closing the door behind him.  He knows it’s going to be a sensitive subject.  One quick look at Liam’s worn down figure and anyone could guess that.  “Thought you could use this,” he adds, handing Liam a cup of coffee.  Liam brings it to his nose and gives it a quick sniff, teasingly skeptical.

“You didn’t Irish it up did you?” he jokes, taking a sip regardless.  He can already feel his body responding.

Niall winks before taking a seat in the far corner.  He waits patiently as Liam sips at his coffee, getting comfortable again.  “So,” he pauses, leaves a long space Liam fills with a deep breath.  “How’s he doing?”  

\--

_He’s been a nervous wreck all day, unable to focus on anything other than **tonight.** It’s dangerous at best and Liam wishes he could’ve done more but it wasn’t possible.  There are rules, most of which he’d come up with himself.  No way would he be able to get away with breaking them.  Liam glances over at the clock, solid red numbers searing an ungodly hour into his brain.  He should’ve been asleep hours ago, preferably when he first got into bed.  He lets out a long, tired yawn and stretches before pulling the blankets up and curling around his pillow._

_Finally, sleep is catching up.  His eye lids have fallen shut and nothing but the steady rhythm of his breath rings in his ears.  When he’s halfway between sleep and reality his phone rings, loud and unmistakable.  He nearly falls out of bed scrambling for it, swiping ‘accept’ before using his hand to catch himself._

_“What?” he snaps._

_“Fucking hell Liam, I fucked up,” are the first words he hears.  He’s got absolutely no idea who’s calling him, thinks he might be finally be dreaming._

_“What-” He starts, utterly confused.  “What the hell are you on about?”_

_“He fought me back Liam! Why didn’t you tell him I was coming after him?” The voice is trying to whisper, but its sharp, losing control.  Liam perks up immediately, drowsiness instantly replaced with adrenaline.  It all clicks, rushing back faster than he can keep up.  He knows exactly who’s on the other end, and he does not like their tone._

_“What happened?” he yells, voice hard and serious.  He presses the phone against his ear as he scrambles for any discarded clothes on the floor._

_“He fucking fought me back! Are you not listening, Jesus Christ Liam.  I couldn’t…stop him the way you wanted me to, he had a fucking gun!”_

_“Fucking hell Zayn, what did you do to him?”_

_“I, I think I hurt him.  I hurt him real fucking bad Liam.  Shit.” Liam can picture Zayn standing just off to the side of the house, hidden but able to watch.  He’s probably pacing, pissed off and unable to do anything.  Liam can hear the shakes in his voice, scared cracks where his throat goes dry.  Liam tries really hard to feel bad for Zayn but he just can’t bring himself to rationalize it.  Zayn knows how hard it must be for Liam to keep his cool.  He’s almost dreading the question that’s about to come out of Liam’s mouth._

_“How bad?”_

__\--

“He’ll be okay.  Hasn’t woken up yet but, you know,” Liam shrugs, feigning nonchalance, but Niall knows exactly what Liam’s thinking.  Behind the solid leader-like pair of brown eyes, he can see how nervous Liam is.  How genuinely scared his friend is of losing the one thing that made this plan all worthwhile.    “Why are you here, Niall?” He asks, placing the coffee on the floor by his sneaker.  Niall take a long look at Liam.

He looks good for someone who’s spent the last three days in a hospital virtually sleepless.  He’s got almost a full beard growing in, patchy and unkept but it looks right on him.  Makes him seem less puppy-dog and more bodyguard than Niall remembered.  Liam gives him a pressured once over and Niall closes his eyes for a moment before answering. 

“If Louis doesn’t wake up, half the plan will be ruined you know that right?”

“I’m aware,” Liam says slowly. 

“If Louis doesn’t get to that barn in time, there’s no way he’ll get drugged properly.”

“Why can’t you go and do it?”

“You know exactly why.” Liam sighs heavily, _of course I do_ and Niall rolls his eyes.  “He’s grieving Liam, thinks Louis is already dead, which is perfect expect if Louis actually dies, that’ll be a bad thing.”  Liam looks at him confused, head tilted to the side.  There are several reasons Louis’ real death would be a bad thing, he just can’t tell which one Niall’s hinting at.  “He’ll be looking for two people, whether he knows it or not.  He’ll be looking for Zayn _and_ Louis.”

 “Right.  I guess that makes sense,” he coughs and rubs his hands against his face, pressing the base of his palms into his eyes.  The coffee is not working.  “So, what are you going to do about it?”

Niall’s smart, knows exactly what to say to keep everyone on their toes.  He’s the only person who knows everything about this plan, the only one who’s got all the cards in his hand.  Whatever Niall needs, Liam has no option but to give it to him.

“Got a little something I made myself,” he says, hand patting the front pocket of his trousers. 

“And I’m supposed to just trust you?” Liam gets up out of the chair anyway, a sign that he’s given Niall the ‘go’.

 “Yeah.  Just trust me,” he winks, and Liam breaks out a smile.

“Two weeks,” Liam says though it’s more of a question.  Its clear there’s only so much more of this he can take. 

“Yeah, two weeks babe.  I promise.”  Niall confirms, tone soft and gentle. 

He nods.  “How’s Zayn?”

“How do you think?”

\--

_Liam’s already outside the house and in his car before Zayn responds.   He’s trying his damnedest to give Zayn the benefit of the doubt, trying to keep himself calm.  But the space Zayn fills with curse words and sentences that don’t make much sense isn’t helping.  He needs to get the lad to shut up and tell him what’s really going on.  He’s pretty sure Zayn’s lost it, begging for forgiveness even though Liam still has no idea why._

_“I’m sorry Liam, I’m so so sorry.”_

_“I know Zayn, I know.  But you need to take a deep breath and explain to me what happened.”  Liam’s surprised by how calm he sounds, his mind is going absolutely mad with worry._

_Zayn does what he’s told – takes a deep breath and swallows thickly.  In the silence Liam can hear the sirens wailing in the background.  They’re close, but not close enough, thinks maybe he can hear what the paramedics are saying but its distant and unclear._

_“He had a gun and I just, reacted.  I didn’t think about…I didn’t think about anything, not the plan nothing.  I pushed him.  I got the gun and I slammed it against his head, fuck he was so pissed.”_

_Liam almost drops the phone.   “You did what?!”_

_“He fell okay? That wasn’t my fault, but he rushed at me and I got him, I got him with the knife like you said but he didn’t stop.  You’re little fucker of a boyfriend tried to fight me back Liam.”_

_“Of course he was gunna fight back, what the fuck did you think he was just gunna let you attack him for?!”_

_“You said he was in!” Zayn screeches, his voice high and wet.  “I thought that meant he knew everything!”_

_“Where are they taking him?”_

_“I don’t know-”_

_“Zayn, where the fuck are they taking Louis?”_

_“I don’t fucking know man! I’m sorry.”_

_“You better find out or I swear to God I’ll kill you myself!” Liam snarls, hanging up instantly.  He throws the phone at the steering wheel and runs his fingers through his hair, tugging at the ends.  “Fuck,” he swears quietly.  “Jesus fucking –” In a rage, he slams his hands against the steering wheel, cursing and screaming wildly, low and angry._

_The thing is, he’d trusted Zayn.  Out of everyone involved, he knew Zayn was his top option for this particular job.  Zayn was the best of the best, kept his cool under the most intense of situations.  Liam had explained to Zayn over a hundred times how important not fucking up this job was.  Yet somehow, he’d screwed up, and Liam was pissed.  Everyone could pay for his mistake, and he wasn’t about to let that happen.  They’ve worked too hard, given up way too much for everything to go to shit now.  Liam would never be able to forgive himself if something terrible ever happened to one of them.  He’d probably kill himself instead of Zayn._

_It’s then that Liam comes to his sense, the realization hitting him like brick wall.  Nothing is going to happen to anyone so long as Liam keeps his cool.  He rests his head of the top of the steering wheel, trying to bring his breathing back to normal.  He can feel red hot tears race down his cheeks, leaving water droplets on his grey sweats.   He takes a deep breath and lifts his head, wiping the wet evidence for his face.  “Nothing,” he murmurs before starting the car and putting it gear._

\--

“He’s been better,” Niall finalizes. 

“He knows I didn’t –”

“He knows.”

“Good.  That’s…good,” Liam says, relieved.  It was the heat of the moment, Zayn knows it too.  Though it’s nice to know his empty threat still remains as such.

“He actually wanted to come by but, you know.  He’s under surveillance,” Niall jokes.

Liam doesn’t really get it, thinks maybe Niall slipped up but he laughs anyway.  He hasn’t done that in so long he can actually feel his belly ache, even from a short giggle.  _Can’t wait till this is over,_ is what he think, “guess I should get going then,” is what comes out of his mouth instead.

“I think its best,” Niall says, pulling out a folded piece of paper from his back pocket.  “Directions, in case you forgot.”

“Thanks mate.”  Liam reaches forward and takes the paper and Niall’s entire hand in his own.  The Irishman looks between their enclosed hands and Liam’s eyes, waiting for him to do something.  In an instant, Liam’s got his arms around Niall’s neck, nearly crushing him.

Niall snakes his own arms around Liam’s unusually thin waist. He squeezes lightly, returning the much needed embrace.  “Need to eat something mate,” he says thickly. 

“You too.”

Liam pulls back slowly, giving Niall’s shoulder one last pat before smiling and turning away.  He knows Niall’s waiting for him to close the door before he does anything, but Liam lingers.  He takes one last look at Louis, shooting out a silent pray that everything will be alright. 

He takes in Louis’ expression, the lad’s soft features and still tanned skin.  He memorizes the height of his cheekbones, the curve of his lips.  Focuses on his strong hands still bandaged from putting up a fight and the black under his eye from losing.  He’s going to miss it, all of it.  _Two weeks,_ Liam reminds himself, turning and walking out the door.  He lets the door close itself behind him.        

\--

“Once,” Harry affirms. 

“Once is enough.”

He can feel the smirk leaking through Zayn’s tone.  “Fuck you,” he hisses, pulling sharp on his arm, cutting off a small amount of oxygen.

“You already did,” Zayn laughs, half caught in his throat.

“You killed him.”

“I did.”

“You know what I have to do now right? What you’ve _made_ me do?” Harry snarls, though there’s less rage in his voice than he wants there to be.

“I know,” he replies, losing just a bit of the joke in his tone.

“Then why would you do it?” Harry pleads.  He releases his elbow and nudges the side of Zayn’s head, his nose brushing along the lad’s cheek.  It’s the only sign of true affection he can afford to give the lad right now.  He thought this would be easy, but _now._

Now it’s his heart that betrays him. He’s spent a lot of time and energy making sure he could keep any emotions he had at bay.  Yet here he is in the exact situation he’s prepared himself for and he’s losing it.

Zayn huffs a laugh through his nose. Harry can feel something wet race down the side of Zayn’s face.  He’s not sure if it’s a tear or a bead of sweat, but regardless, it stings.  “I told you, you could kill me,” Zayn says, self-deprecating. 

\--

_It’s slow the second time around.  Zayn lavishes Harry’s body, kissing, nipping and biting at any bit of flesh he can find.  His tongue darts out to lick into the dips of Harry’s skin – the bone jutting out along his chest and hips.  His dark hands skim over every pale curve: biceps and thighs, teasing with feather light touches that make Harry squirm with need.  It’s new but he kind of loves how Harry looks like this, his body begging._

_Zayn eases into Harry, mind-numbingly slow, blunt nails permanently stuck into his soft skin.  Zayn’s dragging it out for as long as possible, wants to savor every moment he can.  Harry’s too much of a risk to keep around; if it starts tonight then it ends tonight._

_He presses forward; pushing until his thighs are flush against Harry’s, watches as the lad’s mouth drops open.  He feels so good like this, muscles clenching with each steadying breath.  It’s overwhelming and his mind about blanks when he pulls out again.  Zayn’s pretty sure he could come just from the feel alone.  He gives it everything he’s got to hold off.  If he finished right now it’d be over and right now is too soon for this to end._

_Harry’s whining too, wiggling his hips down onto Zayn’s dick in a needy fashion.  His eyebrows are knitted together in concentration and his breath is coming out short and wet.  He tosses his head back when Zayn pushes back in, filling him up completely.  His entire body feels like it’s on fire.  Zayn’s pace is driving him mad, bringing him right to the edge only to pull him back again and again.  There’s a constant dull ache in the pit of his stomach, a fantastic knot that’s threatening to explode.  His hands are fisted in the sheets, knuckles turning white with how hard he’s holding on._

_It feels like ages before Zayn picks up his pace, thrusting in and out of Harry steadily.  Not fast, just enough to keep both lads on edge but not enough to push them over.  Zayn leans down and kisses Harry’s swollen lips, tongue slipping past to lick into the lad’s mouth.  He tastes a little more like Zayn this time, smoky from the cigarette they eventually shared.  It shouldn’t get to Zayn the way it does, seeps right down into his heart of hearts, filling every nook and cranny it can find.  The only thing keeping him in the moment is his name falling decadently from Harry’s flush pink lips._

_Zayn gives up, his body refusing to let him hold back anymore.  He takes Harry by surprise, the sounds of skin slapping against skin suddenly overpowering the sounds of their ragged breathing.  Harry nearly chokes at the change, his throat hoarse and dry.  Zayn’s pounding into him relentlessly, giving everything he’s got.  Zayn’s hard worked grunts contrast loudly with Harry’s high-pitched moans.  It’s only seconds before Zayn comes with a slacked jaw and blown pupils.  Harry can feel him finish, the pulse that echoes through his own body.   He nearly cries when Zayn keeps going, pushing Harry towards his finish._

_He knows Harry’s close, if his exact statement of the words is anything to go by.  His voice is wrecked, cracking and pleading every time Zayn’s fucks into him.  He’s got such a good angle, he hits Harry’s prostate continually, and it only takes two sharp thrusts before Harry comes totally undone.  He yells out Zayn’s name again as he coats his chest and stomach with a white that’s paler than his skin._

_They didn’t use a condom, and it’s only when Zayn can feel himself filling up inside Harry does he realize it.  It hadn’t occurred to him to use one, not that they had much to worry about anyway.  It feels intimate this way, like he’s making some invisible claim on the lad.  The idea alone makes his entire body shudder with a sense of animal-like pride; even if it’s just for this one moment, Harry is his._

_“I couldn’t kill you Zayn,” Harry says at six in the morning.  His attempt to sneak out had caused such a ruckus Zayn had to get up anyway._

_“You say that now.”  He’s leaning against the door frame, Harry standing just a few feet down the hall waiting for the elevator.  The distance between them feels like a million miles and all Zayn wants to do is reach out and kiss Harry senseless._

_“Why do you know so much about me?” The elevator dings and the doors open, leaving Harry seemingly no choice but to enter._

_“You’d be surprised,” Zayn finishes closing his door so he doesn’t have to watch Harry walk away._

_It’s that morning at a coffee shop just down the street, in his sweaty, dirty clothes from the night before, does he meet Louis._

\--

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell me you knew me?” Harry begs, though he’s not really sure what he’s begging for.

“I couldn’t.   You wouldn’t be able to do this if you knew.  It would’ve made this impossible.”

 “It already is,” Harry whispers right into Zayn’s ear.  It’s almost like he’s admitting defeat, owning up to the fact he’s not as put together as he’d like everyone to believe.  Besides, if anyone knew how Harry’s defenses worked, it was Zayn.  Harry could only hold back so much before he snapped.  Those three words were Harry’s version of giving up, letting out his own little secret: his weakness.

“I killed Louis,” Zayn reminds.

“You think I don’t know that?” Harry growls, surprised by the malice in his tone.  Harry did love Louis; he loved the lad as much as he could.  But sometimes, he was selfish.  Sometimes Louis just wasn’t enough. 

Where Harry wanted brown eyes, he was always met with an ocean of blue; looked for born-dark skin with even darker ink, but touched something too forced.  Louis had curves where Harry was expecting sharp edges.  They were opposites and sometimes Harry was grateful for that.  Though he couldn’t help himself but compare them, especially in his most desperate times.  Besides, they were both in love with someone they couldn’t have anyway.  They shared a bond that way, a layer of understanding that kept them strong. “I watched him die.”

“Good,” he says, but there’s no sense of evil.

“You’re sick.”

Zayn can feel the metal against his back, right on a vertebrate of his spine.  It’s surprisingly cold considering it’s been inside the back of Harry’s trousers all night.

“I am.  You should put me down.”

“We’re both sick.”

“Not on the same level.”  He knows Harry’s finger is alternating between the safety and the trigger, shaking and uncertain. 

“I watched Louis _die_ , Zayn.  That makes me pretty sick.”

“You watched Louis die because you had to, I planned it that way.  I watched him die because I _wanted_ to.” 

Harry didn’t know that.  “Why?”

Zayn doesn’t respond, just pushes his back harder against the tip of the gun.  Harry swallows thickly, spit sticking to the inside of his throat. 

 “I hate you.  I hate what you’ve done, what you’ve made _me_ do.  I wish I didn’t have to do this Zayn.”

“I wish you didn’t either.”

It’s all Zayn says before he feels the bullet pierce his flesh.  It doesn’t even leave his body, when he looks down at the front of his shirt it’s still dry.  It stays inside him, lodged somewhere deep, somewhere no one’s going to get to in time.  _He’s good,_ Zayn thinks with a smirk, _of course he’s good,_ his body clenching at the sudden pain.  He can feel it now, the blood seeping down his back.

Harry’s still got a tight grip around his neck, keeping him on his feet.  It’s a good thing too because his legs are starting to giving out pretty quick.  He tries desperately to keep his breathing steady, but it’s coming out half through his nose, half through gritted teeth.             

“Didn’t think it’d hurt so badly,” he grunts, digging his nails into Harry’s forearm.

“I shot you Zayn; of course it’s going to hurt.  I’m sorry, for what it’s worth,” Harry says his tone completely void of emotion.  He tries to pull away but Zayn holds on.

“It’s worth a lot more than you know.”

\--

_Thing is, it hadn’t been just once.  Zayn had tried to keep it that way but Harry was hard to shake_

_It seemed almost every time Zayn went to the coffee shop Harry was there, sitting off in the corner by himself reading the newspaper.  At first Zayn thought he was there by chance, visiting the barista Zayn had seen him kissing out back one time.  But after nearly six weeks, Zayn was sure Harry was there deliberately.  One day, he caught Harry’s eyes and silently asked him to meet out back.  The fact that Harry even nodded back said more than enough, and he was pissed._

_The moment Harry pushed the back door open, Zayn was on him.  The collar of his shirt already snug in Zayn’s fist as he trapped Harry against the wall firmly._

_“The fuck are you doing here?”  Zayn growls, his face inches from Harry’s._

_“Waiting for you of course.”_

_Zayn almost punches him for the winning smirk he’s got.  “You shouldn’t be here Harry.  You shouldn’t be following me around like this.  It isn’t, it’s not –” He sighs.  It’s not fair that Harry gets to be the reckless one and Zayn has to stay level headed.  He pushes against Harry’s chest before taking a step back, giving Harry a once over._

_He looks just as gorgeous as he did the night Zayn first brought him home.  He’s filled out a bit more in his chest and clearly hasn’t cut his hair.  It’s wildly curly and sticking out all over the place under his bandana.  Zayn kind of loves it, but if Harry ever asked he’d deny it to his death.  “Seriously what are you doing here?”_

_“Like I said, waiting for you,” Harry says leaning up off the wall.  “And apparently you’ve been doing the same.”_

_Zayn scoffs. “Yeah right.”_

_“A little birdy told me.”_

_“Oh yeah?” His expression is sarcastic, trying to outwit his emotions.  “Was that little birdy the curvy kid you were making time with the other day?”_

_Harry smiles and Zayn thinks he sees the resemblance of a blush creeping up Harry’s cheeks.  “So you did see,” he responds softly, stepping closer to Zayn._

_Suddenly, Harry grabs at his waist and throws him against the wall, crowding him.  Harry slots one of his long legs between Zayn’s, bending at the knee so their hips are pressed together.  Zayn’s head connects with the concrete as his hands rush up to grip Harry’s shoulders.  He’s not sure when he lost control over the situation, though he thinks it might’ve disappeared the moment Harry smirked at him._

_“I missed you,” Harry mutters, lips just a breath away from Zayn’s.  “Haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night,” he adds, rolling his hips._

_Zayn squeezes his eyes shit and grunts, nails digging through Harry’s shirt.  He’s tried for the last two months to avoid this, but the moment he caught Harry in that coffee shop, he couldn’t help himself._

_“Missed you too,” he whispers, leaving out the part where he can’t get that night out of his head no matter how many shots he fires._

_It’s enough apparently, because the next thing he knows Harry’s smashed his lips against Zayn’s, tongue eagerly trying to gain access.  Harry’s lips are just as soft and wet as Zayn remembers, pillowy against his thin ones.  Harry wraps his arms around Zayn’s waist, tugging him closer, kissing deeper.  For once Zayn lets himself melt into Harry’s body, slotting tight against him._

_They fuck right then and there in the dungy alley behind the coffee shop.   Zayn’s chest pressed against chilly wall, pants around their thighs.  It’s quick, needy and two days later Zayn’s still got Harry’s fingertips bruised into his hips._

_They keep it going, whatever it is they have together.  It’s risky for sure, but no matter how many times Zayn says ‘no’, Harry always tugs out the guarded ‘yes’.  They meet in the same back alley, rushed blowjobs and quick fucks before someone tries to take out the trash.  It’s pathetic and unfair, and Zayn wants more._

_It’s his own foolishness that brings Harry to his apartment after a few weeks.  He lets Harry set up camp in his room, a few sweaters tucked in with his jackets and a pair of swede brown boots at his door.  Zayn knew it wasn’t a good idea, highlighted when he received a note from his boss about someone he had to take care of.  He almost debates throwing himself off his balcony when he reads the name at the top of the file._

_Harry is not to like him very much after this._

_\--_

Harry has to physically yank his arm out of Zayn’s grip, nails ripping at the skin.  He takes a few steps back and notices how quick the blood soaks through Zayn’s dark t-shirt, even leaves a mark on his own. 

Harry can see him struggling for air, his back muscles twitching a pulling against the damp fabric.  It’s painful to see, imagines hearing little huffs or strangled air leave Zayn’s lips.  The reality hit him like a freight train; he _cared_ about Zayn and somewhere along the way, he fell stupidly in love with him.  Zayn is one of the greatest things in his life, even if it all was one giant secret.  He was there when no one else was, when he thought no one cared or understood.

And now? Well, now he’s just shot someone who just about meant more to him than himself.  _Life’s funny like that,_ Harry thinks. 

He watches as Zayn collapses onto his knees, head lulling back aimlessly and something inside him snaps.  He can’t do this, he refuses to watch one more person he loves die right in front of him like that.  He slips the gun back into his jeans and fixes his shirt so it’s covered.  He turns away when Zayn topples forward, not even using his arms to break his fall, and walks back the same way he came in. 

\--

The air outside is crisp, ice cold against the sweat built up along his body.  The sudden change in temperature hits him hard, shakes his head to try and set himself straight.  Harry nearly trips in the process, his vision starting to get a bit blurry.  He looks down at his hands, eyes wide with panic as he sways to the right.

Short, aggressive puffs of air escape through his nose as he struggles to figure out what’s going on.  His body feels strange, like his limbs aren’t attached to his body; legs starting to feel like jelly and his arms are going numb, fast. 

That’s when it hits him.

He can’t believe he didn’t notice before, the lightheaded feeling he’d gotten after pushing that kid away.  _That bastard drugged me._ His vision whites out for a second and his body drops violently.  He expects to hit the ground hard, attempts to brace himself but it feels like someone’s caught him.  With no idea who it is, he struggles, though it’s pointless because his body feels like dead weight.  Someone tugs the gun from his jeans and guides him to the ground.

“No,” he tries but it’s barely above a whisper, slurred.

“Harry relax,” someone says but he can’t make out who.  There’s a rush of black and brown and a small soft hand coming to pat at his face.  “Relax, you’ll be okay,” the voice says, distance this time. 

_Liar,_ Harry thinks, his mind slowly shutting down in time with his body.  The last thing he sees is the dark night sky obscured by a pair of impossibly blue eyes and flushed pink lips.

Then it clicks, he knows exactly who this person is. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> And once again, do follow me on [ tumblr](http://catina-and-her-five-ds.tumblr.com/) for updates on this and other stories :)
> 
> .xx

**Author's Note:**

> THANKS FOR READING.
> 
> Please do follow me on[ tumblr](http://catina-and-her-five-ds.tumblr.com/) for updates on this fic and any others I feel like writing. 
> 
> Can't say when part 2 will be up because I'm going on vacation soon, but I'll be working on it when I'm away.
> 
> Thanks again loves,  
> .xx


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